


Dark

by apparitionism



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, basically canon-compliant, but later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apparitionism/pseuds/apparitionism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could take place post-Beam. Certainly post-S5. I mostly just want to get us past 1000 in Bering & Wells.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark

The retrieval, and the lateness of their arrival home from it, leave Myka tired. Both the chase itself and the tension with Pete are to blame. They are fine, usually, but after any mission, they need time to retire to their respective corners. And they need to maintain sufficient respect for those corners.

Quietly, Myka enters the room that she now, quietly, shares with Helena. She knows Helena sleeps in here when she’s gone. She likes this, likes the matter-of-fact possessiveness of it, likes, quite frankly, that her protective bristles do not spring to attention at the very idea. She feels no need to shield any of her things from Helena, to say, “Don’t touch my stuff.” She knows everything will be fine and as she left it. And if sometimes it isn’t, if sometimes Helena has decided that disassembling a CD player is what needed to happen… Helena has been very up-front about these things, and Myka has provided very positive reinforcement of her up-front-ness.

So she’s a little surprised when she emerges from the bathroom, pajama-clad (well, T-shirt-and-shorts-clad; her mother would be appalled at her lack of garments _sold as_ pajamas), to a sense that something is not quite _right_ about the room. Helena is collapsed on the bed—she was even more tired than Myka, offering her barely a sleepy kiss of welcome and mumbling something about “god those zip lines”—and seems out for the duration. That’s very right, a sleepy Helena in her bed. Every kind of right. So…

It takes Myka longer than she would have expected, around ten seconds, to realize: it’s an unaccustomed light source. Over by the bed, in the outlet that is mostly obscured by the nightstand, is plugged a cheap nightlight.

Myka gets into bed with Helena: her own side of the bed. She has a side, and Helena has a side. It’s domestic, yes, but it also signifies a norm that is _very_ alluring to transgress… but tonight, because Helena is asleep, Myka gets into bed on her own side.

Helena shifts a little; she says, into the pillow, “About.” After a sleepy pause, she says, “Time.”

Myka can’t help herself. She says, “About. The light?”

And Helena raises her head. She looks at Myka, wide-eyed. “I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Myka assures her. “If you’ve decided you need a light, it’s okay.”

“No. I meant to put it away. Since you’re here.”

“Did you think I’d mind? It’s okay. If you need it, it’s okay.”

“No.”

“No? Helena. You can tell me.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t need it when you’re here.” Helena curls into Myka’s body in a way that she does only when she is making an admission, when she is confessing… not a sin, but a weakness. But Myka doesn’t feel it as a weakness.

Helena has been hiding the nightlight from her, first so Myka would not worry with regard to any fear of the dark (because Myka knows that Helena knows that she would worry), but even better, because of exactly what she just said, that she doesn’t need it when they are together like this. And Myka, who as a child had a terrible fear of the dark, doesn’t either. She is fairly certain, now, after everything, that she herself will never need the reassurance of any kind of artificial light to make sense of the world around her, never again, at any time of day or night.

END


End file.
